Lost Before The Dawn
by Parlim13
Summary: Over a year after the events of Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod and Katrina receive a letter informing them that the Hessian has risen again. In present day Boston, Julia finds a spell over two hundred years old that leads her on a journey she never expected.
1. Prologue Imbolg

A/N: Hi everyone. This is my first fanfiction on this site, and the first time I've tried writing any of the characters from Sleepy Hollow (this is the Tim Burton version, by the way), so if anyone is OOC, please point it out, but flames will be used to roast marshmallows.

Also, to make this more authentic, I'm going to use real spells when possible, and when I need to make up my own, I'll be sure to associate the correct colours, ingredients etc. In the first half, the spell Julia uses is a real spell for celebrating Imbolg, as is the charm for closing a pentacle (or circle, as some call it).

* * *

**Prologue – Imbolg**

**OoOoOoOoO**

It was a dull and dark February evening. A monochrome pillow of clouds lurked low, as if weighed down by the rainwater they carried. The air was cold, and tension built in the wild gales dancing around the city of Boston.

In an apartment near the city centre, a Native American girl in her late teens was stood inside a pentacle chalked on the wooden floor of her bedroom, before her an altar covered in a white cloth. On it were a variety of seemingly random items – three black candles, a crown of silver stars, a selection of early greenery picked fresh that morning, including snowdrops and catkins amongst other things, a shawl, a handful of porridge oats in a bowl and a broom – but anyone who practised Wicca could tell you that these items were necessary for the Wiccan festival of Imbolg. The girl – named Julia Woodrow – took a box of matches from the pocket of her black velvet trousers and lit one, using it to light the three candles. Blowing out the match and placing it – along with the box – on the altar, she reached for the porridge oats and scattered them on the floor around her. Raising the wand of hazel, with black and white ribbons wrapped around it, she began the spell, noting the full moon just visible between the clouds outside her room.

_"From darkness comes light. From night comes day. From winter and death comes spring and life."_ Julia enunciated clearly. Setting down the wand carefully, she reached out and grabbed the crown and the shawl, putting them on quickly, and then picking up the spring foliage.

_"Girl in the moon, see off the darkness and let the light in."_

Setting down then flowers, she then laid a hand on the crown on her head.

_"Mother in the moon, disperse death and raise life."_

Julia moved her hand down and laid it on the woollen shawl wrapped around her shoulders – a gift from her grandmother last Christmas.

_"Wise grandmother in the moon, end the winter and begin the spring."_

Taking the broom, she swept up the oats and placed them back in the bowl, not forgetting the final part of the spell.

_"Although you are three, you also are one._

_As I begin to sweep the room, so have your powers begun_

_To banish the winter gloom,_

_Welcome spring's flourish and nature's bloom."_

As soon as the spell was complete, Julia felt as if she was experiencing an endorphin rush, which she figures was the work of the Fifth Essence, or possibly the God and Goddess. Smiling, she set the bowl of oats back on the altar to scatter outside the next morning as a gift for the birds and took her wand again to open the pentacle. Pointing her wand to the north, she proceeded to walk around the pentacle in an anti-clockwise direction.

_"I do not break this circle but the circle is undone._

_The spell that I have cast it has begun._

_Mindful of the witch's rede_

_Now the magic has been freed_

_I will harm none_

_Yet if harm's done_

_It will return to me_

_By the power of three."_

The pentacle opened, Julia was suddenly aware of the heavy beat of rain on her window, and wondered why it was she always failed to notice things around her while she was casting a spell. Giving a small gasp as thunder rumbled around her, louder than expected, the teen hurried to clear away the ingredients she had used – blowing out the candle flames so they could be used again – and then fixed herself a sandwich and a soda and sat on the large squashy sofa in her living room to await her father's return, but instead – perhaps because it was Imbolg – Julia found her mind wandering to her mother. True, it was Samhain that acknowledged the dead, but Imbolg, dealing with death and rebirth, always caused her to think of the woman who had died when she was only nine.

And so, comforted by a warm, if somewhat blurry memory of a family picnic on her eighth birthday, Julia finished her sandwich and then felt her eyes – so dark a brown they were often mistaken for black – drift closed as she fell asleep. The last thing her eyes rested on was the glass bottle on the coffee table which contained what Julia suspected was a variation on the spell in a bottle charm, intended to bring whoever it ended up with good luck. However, this one was different, not least because the parchment was extremely old – at least two hundred years – and the message seemed to have been written in actual ink, and not from a fountain pen. Also, on the other side, there was the traditional charm, almost as if whoever had written it wanted to make sure whoever received the spell heeded the call.

* * *

Katrina didn't know what to think or feel, didn't know what was going on or how she and Ichabod would deal with it – for everyone in Sleepy Hollow was indeed looking to them to deal with it – all she knew was that she was completely terrified. Not exactly because of what they had been alerted to – though that in and of itself was a cause for great concern – but because of the potential consequences of that.

Katrina and Ichabod – along with their charge, Thomas Masbeth, whom they had adopted as a son of sorts – had been in New York for nearly a year when Ichabod received a letter from the new reverend of Sleepy Hollow, Michael Crawford, who had, in his words, wished for advice from the only man to defeat the Hessian on how to deal with claims that the spirit had once again risen from the grave. Apparently, in the last two months, villagers had been muttering about a mysterious figure roaming the Western Woods. Of course, everyone had immediately assumed it to be the Horseman, but as nothing could be proved it was just idle gossip… until one man had gotten close enough to be a proper eyewitness, and had described the Hessian perfectly. Katrina knew this meant they would be going back to Sleepy Hollow – if only to satisfy Ichabod's curiosity – but the thought filled her with terror, whichs he reprimanded herself for, since the rumours were probably unfounded. After all, no heads had rolled, had they? But still, would the Hessian collect heads now his own had been returned to him? Or was he after something else?

The young blonde sighed and buried her face in her hands. Why did life have to be so complicated? Right now, she should have been making preparations to become Mrs Katrina Crane – Ichabod had proposed to her several months ago – not travelling back to a town filled with such bad memories to potentially begin again a fight they had barely won last time! Another thought entered her head – what if they didn't win this time? What if, instead, the Hessian won this macabre game? A single tear, born of the sickening turmoil inside her, rolled down Katrina's cheek, and it was this that brought her to her senses. Jumping up from where she had been sitting, Katrina strode purposefully over to the large mahogany bookshelf and ran her fingers over the spines of several volumes before finding the one she wanted. It was one she had written herself – a copy of the book of charms she had given to Ichabod and which, ultimately, had saved his life. However, there was also now a large hole through it (they had kept it, if only as a reminder) so Katrina had decided she needed a legible copy.

She found the spell she wanted with little trouble – it was one she had used many a time, though mostly when she was younger. A spell in a bottle, meant to be a way of sending magic into the world, and blessing those who had an open enough mind to receive the fortune the God and Goddess could bestow. Although this time Katrina planned on doing it slightly differently. Surely, if the spell could be used to send something out, could it not also be used to draw something – or someone – in? Could it not, potentially, be used to draw someone who could lay the Hessian to rest once and for all to Sleepy Hollow? Even in her own mind, the idea sounded slightly crazy to Katrina, and very desperate, but she ignored common sense – that was Ichabod's department anyway – and allowed herself to believe and trust in her own power. It had worked before.

After ferreting out a quill, a parchment and a pot of ink, Katrina followed the first part of the spell, drawing elaborate Celtic spirals in the corners of the parchment, and then an Egyptian ankh in the centre. After allowing that to dry so she didn't smudge the design, Katrina wrote her charm in a circle around the ankh.

_Finding this charm bring great luck_

_But life is not an open book_

_Hurry, stranger, and take heed_

_Now this magic has been freed_

_It guides you to those seeking aid_

_Please understand the choice I made_

Beneath it, Katrina wrote – after several moments' consideration – directions to Sleepy Hollow, and informing whoever received the message that the trouble was the Hessian Horseman. On the other side of the parchment, she also wrote the original spell, deciding that if it gave out good luck, and good luck was then returned to the caster by the power of three, then there was a greater chance of the right person finding the message and coming to Sleepy Hollow.

It was a long shot, she had to admit, but Katrina knew that most of the time, magic was far more powerful that faith or logic. Magic had saved her life the last time she had faced the Hessian, and she prayed it would do the same again. But now, she needed to perform the Imbolg ceremony, for a quick glance at the calendar hung in the room told her it was the second of February. Katrina purposefully slipped from the room; seeking out the ingredients she would need, along with lavender oil, purple ribbon, bottle and a cork to finish her spell.

Outside, wild winds whipped around New York, rain falling heavily, as if the clouds had been carrying their load for weeks. Howls creating by invisible dancers may well have spooked another, more fragile woman, but Katrina paid the storm no heed, not knowing how it would connect her to another.


	2. Chapter 1 Foot In Mouth Syndrome

**Chapter 1 – Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome**

**OoOoOoOoO**

Julia was aware of the buzz of voices around her as she slowly woke up, but she found it impossible to discern actual words, perhaps because of the blaring pain in her skull. Wincing, the teen subtly raised a hand to massage one of her temples, hoping to somehow alleviate the pain without alerting those in the room of her return to consciousness. All this was in vain, however, as someone called out loudly, announcing she was awake.

Confused, and feeling dopey, as if she had been drugged, Julia opened her eyes sluggishly and the world swam into view. After blinking a few times, everything came into focus, but the impossible situation remained. Before her were stood several people, all dressed in early 19th century clothing. One was a woman with long blonde hair, and the others were men – one with dark, messy hair was stood with his arm around the blonde woman, and the two others were huddled together, muttering, their exact featured difficult to discern by the room's dim lighting. As the last tendrils of sleep lost their grip on her, Julia was able to concentrate on the words being spoken around her,

"Where am I?" She slurred. "What happened to my couch?"

"Excuse me?" The blonde woman asked; a concerned look on her face. One of the men in the huddled group – a large, balding man with twinkling eyes – looked up sharply and shook his head.

"I think the girl's got a touch of amnesia." He declared. "Let's see… what's the last thing you remember?"

"Falling asleep on my couch." Julia answered, feeling more and more confused by the second but deciding to play along for now, if only to work out where she was. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she had been kidnapped by some sort of cult. "What happened? Why am I here?"

"You were found in the Western Woods by Jack Grahams here." The dark-haired man explained, indicating a ginger-haired man. "You were unconscious, so they brought you here, to Dr. Jameson's surgery."

"What happened to you, lass?" Jack Grahams yet asked, his ginger hair falling into brown eyes hard with suspicion. "And dressed up like a lad to boot."

"Huh?" Julia looked down at herself, and remembered she was wearing jeans. "They're just jeans… everyone wears them where I come form." Sighing, she decided to explain everything. "Look, the last thing I remember was falling asleep in my house during a huge thunderstorm after I'd finished celebrating Imbolg."

Her words were met with a collective gasp from the men, but the blonde woman simply looked as if everything had fallen into place. Abruptly, she tugged on the dark-haired man's sleeve and whispered something into his ear, to which his eyes widened and he gave Julia an appraising look before nodding distractedly and turning to the doctor.

"Well, Dr. Jameson, it seems as if everything is in order. I'm sure you have other patients to tend to." It was a subtle dismissal, and the doctor was obviously a keen enough man to pick up on subtleties, for he nodded, quickly gathered his things together and left. After a few moments, Jack Grahams followed him, but not before shooting Julia a distrustful glare that sent a shiver down her spine. Obviously he was anti-Wicca – something that Julia was well used to, though it still annoyed her.

A few beats of silence passed between the three people left in the room, before Julia decided that the best way forward would be to establish exactly what had happened. Since she wasn't restrained in any way, and the couple – for they were quite obviously together in more than one way – had even called a doctor to make sure she was alright, the teen deduced that it was unlikely that she'd been kidnapped. This realisation calmed her enough to allow her to form her questions in a way that would not make her look insane. After all, maybe the doctor was right, and she did have amnesia. Julia knew how her father loved history; it was a completely viable theory that he had dragged her along to one of his conventions, and she'd had an accident, maybe hit her head. Accusing these people of kidnapping her wouldn't help her case.

"Thanks for your help, I really am grateful." Julia attempted a weak smile. "But… I think the doctor was right – I have amnesia. I can't really remember much… the last thing I recall, I was in my house in Boston. My dad will be worried about me, so the sooner I can let him know I'm alright, the better."

"Of course, we understand completely." The man replied, nodding. "But first, I think it would be a good idea if we introduced ourselves. My name is Ichabod Crane, and this is my fiancé Katrina Van Tassel."

"Julia Woodrow. It's a pleasure."

"Woodrow?" The woman – Katrina – repeated, surprised. "You aren't by any chance related to Annabel Woodrow, are you? She's the new midwife here in Sleepy Hollow."

"Not that I know of, but then again I don't know much about my dad's side of the family." Julia shrugged, and then what Katrina had said properly registered. Sleepy Hollow…? So it really was a convention! Why else would an engaged couple be role-playing at Katrina Van Tassel and Ichabod Crane? Ha, and to think she'd almost started to wonder if she'd somehow time-travelled!

"An enquiry for a later date, perhaps." Ichabod declared. "But I do believe we promised to answer your questions – ask away."

"Well, for starters, it'd be nice to know the date. At least then I know just how much I've forgotten."

"The eighth of February, in the year of our Lord 1801." Somewhere in the house, a clock struck midnight, and Ichabod hastened to correct his answer. "Ah, make that the ninth."

Julia closed her eyes for a moment, irritated by the extent these people were going to in order to keep up their little convention game. At another time, perhaps she would have admired the completeness of it all, but right now, when she needed clear answers, it was frustrating. Just as she was about to demand that the couple stop fooling about, a young man – also dressed in period clothing – poked his head around the door, looking like a drowned rat. Apparently it was raining heavily outside.

"Sir!" He gasped, trying to deliver a message and catch his breath at the same time. "Sir, there's… there's been another murder. I said you'd be needing to look at the body."

"Another?" Ichabod muttered to himself, instantly changing from relaxed to harried. "Ah, yes, yes, good thinking, young Masbeth. I'll be right along." Then, to Julia and Katrina, "I'm sorry, I'll be back as soon as I can…"

"Go along." Katrina insisted, seeming both understanding and a little bitter. "You need to be there."

As Ichabod and Masbeth left, all Julia could do was gawp. This was unreal. Maybe it was a murder mystery game, but somehow she didn't think it was. There was something too real about the actions of Katrina, Ichabod and Masbeth for this to still be role-play. But if not a game, then what was it? She couldn't really have somehow ended up in the year 1801… could she? In a flash, Julia remembered the spell she had found back in Boston. A spell over two hundred years old… no, that was preposterous, she was making something out of nothing, trying to forge connections where there were none. So, instead of trying to think about any of this, Julia simply buried her face in her hands, and that was why when Katrina laid a hand on her shoulder she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Sorry." The blonde said quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you." A pause, and then: "You don't belong here, do you?"

There was a note of excitement in Katrina's voice that unnerved Julia slightly, and her answer was wary.

"What do you mean? I know I don't belong in Sleepy Hollow – I live in Boston, like I said."

"Oh, I know that." Katrina waved a hand dismissively. "I mean… oh, this sounds mad, even to me… you're not from this… time, are you?"

"Are you trying to tell me that this really is the year 1801, and that this really is Sleepy Hollow, and not just some weird historical convention my dad dragged me to?" Julia asked weakly. "Like… Headless Horseman and Lady Van Tassel real?"

"I don't understand everything you just said," Katrina admitted, "but yes, that sounds about right. How do you know about the Horseman, though, and Lady Van Tassel, for that matter? Nobody outside of the Hollow knows our legends."

"Where I come from… well, more specifically when I come from… the story of Sleepy Hollow's Hessian is pretty famous." Julia explained. "A lot of know the basic tale – though there are some variations – but everyone thinks it's just a story."

"I can say that I blame them. I'd think it was a story too if I hadn't been here to witness it." Katrina conceded, and then sat down in a nearby chair. Julia waited for her to say something, but the blonde simply sat in silence, as if she was trying to figure something out.

The teen knew it would be a long shot to mention the spell, but it was old enough, and Katrina Van Tassel was supposed to have practised Wicca… well, it couldn't hurt to mention it, seeing as she'd already pretty much given away the fact that she herself practised it.

"There's something else." Julia began carefully. "Back home, I'd recently found a spell that was really old – over two hundred years old, in fact – and it was like a spell in a bottle charm, but different."

Now, even though Julia had dared to hope that Katrina wouldn't just think this was a useless piece of information, she hadn't been prepared for the reaction she received. Katrina stared at Julia for a moment, speechless, and then smiled.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed. "I knew you were the one it had found. The spell – it had the traditional words on one side, and the altered charm on the other, yes?"

"Yeah, it did, actually." Julia nodded, feeling like she was missing something. "Why?"

"That spell was mine." Katrina revealed, still smiling and looking quite pleased with herself. "Though I have to admit, I wasn't expecting someone from… the future, I take it?"

"Yeah." Julia couldn't help but giggle a little at how mad it sounded. "The year 2009, to be exact."

"Over two hundred years…" Katrina shook her head. "I suppose that explains a few things."

"Like my clothes, you mean."

"Amongst other things."

"So, I don't suppose there's any way you can just… you know… send me back, is there?" Julia's tone became more serious again. This was what she really needed to know.

"Unfortunately, I honestly don't know. I never thought it would be a problem I'd have to overcome." It was obvious that Katrina had never meant this to happen, and so Julia couldn't quite find it within herself to be angry with her, but the thought that she might never see what was left of her family, or her friends, ever again was sobering. Katrina mumbled a few apologies uncomfortably as she smoothed the skirt of her dress repeatedly.

"It's alright." Sighing, Julia forced herself to try smiling, and suspected she failed horribly. At least she wasn't crying, which in itself was quite surprising – Julia had always been something of a crybaby. "You didn't mean to pluck me out of my time."

"Yes, but still…"

"Never mind." Julia said firmly. "Right now, we have bigger things to worry about. Like what's all this about murders, and how the hell am I going to find some clothes that won't make me stick out like a sore thumb?"

Having expected this comment to get a laugh out of Katrina, Julia was surprised when, instead, the blonde became subdued once again. Too late, Julia realised who the murderer probably was, and what memories it would be bringing up for Katrina. Great, she'd just started to be on good terms with the woman, and now she'd gone and shoved her foot down her throat.

"I'm sorry, it's just… I worry about Ichabod. He's lucky – very lucky – but luck is notorious for running out." Katrina explained, her eyes fixed on her clasped hands.

"Don't worry, Katrina, I'm sure he'll be fine." It was hard to sound comforting when she knew what Ichabod was up against, but somehow Julia managed it, leaning forward as she spoke to pat Katrina uncertainly on the shoulder.

"I hope so. He should be, though, like you say." With what seemed like a huge effort, Katrina stood, looking very dignified, and as if nothing in the world could trouble her. "Don't tell him, but I've been casting a few protection spells over him, just in case. Ichabod can't deny the existence of magic, but he doesn't mean he puts much faith in it."

"I can keep a secret." Julia promised, smiling. For her effort, she received a small hint of a smile from Katrina, and then the older woman beckoned for Julia to follow her.

"Well, all things in order. First we need to see if any of my dresses can be altered to fit you until we can get some made. Then I think it would make a lot of things clearer if we both explained all we know."

* * *

As the two women sorted through gowns, and swapped their tales, growing closer friends with every passing minute, all thoughts of Ichabod, the Hessian, and even the revelation that she might never return home were gradually pushed to the backs of Julia's mind, as if washed away by the rain that still poured outside, as dawn grew closer. Not so for Katrina, who could not help but worry for her fiancé, but even she had to admit there were bright spots to the situation now, and she especially felt heartened by this turn of events. Although guilty still about the fact that she had unwittingly ripped Julia from her home, she had to admit that it was comforting that the spell had brought someone. It seemed unlikely that this strange girl from the future would be the one to finally defeat the Hessian, but she must be able to, else the spell would not have brought her. What would be, would be, and she would make sure she was prepared to face it.


End file.
